


Memories Are Not Made of This

by paranoidangel



Category: Press Gang
Genre: F/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-23
Updated: 2009-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-05 01:31:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/36312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paranoidangel/pseuds/paranoidangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's just the usual sort of conversation between Spike and Lynda. Set before At Last a Dragon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memories Are Not Made of This

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Selenay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selenay/gifts).



> Beta by hhertzof

"You've forgotten haven't you?" Spike asked, following close behind Lynda as she went back to her desk.

Lynda frowned, trying to work out what he was talking about. It was only once she reached her desk that she turned to face him, having had time to think and establish what she already knew: there was nothing Spike knew about that she hadn't remembered.

This morning she had been intending to re-write Sarah's article about the fire at Angelo's, but Spike had already distracted her, despite him only being in the newsroom for five minutes. And he'd been late, and now she didn't even get a chance to tell him off about that. Him trying to keep her from her work wasn't always completely unwelcome, loathe as she was to admit it, except today he was accusing her of something she was sure she hadn't done.

She slammed down the folders she'd been carrying to let him know how she felt about that and refused to sit down. Even if one of them had escaped the pile and slid onto the floor. She refused to pick it up, wanting to be eye to eye with him, so she wouldn't be looking up at him and making him feel like he had any power over her. "No, I haven't." Let him prove it. She didn't think for one minute that he could.

"If you say so, Boss." He shrugged. "You just looked like you had."

"I looked like I was walking to my desk." Honestly, sometimes she wondered what planet Spike was on. "I haven't forgotten," she repeated, in case he hadn't got that the first time. With that discussion over, as far as she was concerned, she sat down and picked up her pen.

Spike grinned and perched on the edge of her desk. "In that case I'll pick you up at seven."

Lynda frowned. "What?" She looked up at him. "Why?"

He leaned down. "I told you you'd forgotten."

She sighed, put her pen back down on the desk and sat back in her chair. "All right, I give in. What is it I'm supposed to have forgotten?"

"We have a date tonight." He lowered his voice a little, which only made it marginally less embarrassing given how many people she could see listening to their conversation rather than working.

She shook her head. "No, we don't."

"Yes, we do. I'm picking you up at seven, remember?"

"I didn't agree to that."

He shrugged. "How about six thirty?"

She glared at him. "Spike, I very much doubt I'd have agreed to go out with you and forgotten about it."

"Well, I am a memorable guy."

And far too big-headed in her opinion, so she ignored that and toyed with one of the folders, wondering if hitting him around the head with it would do any good. She was forced to conclude that it would probably do more damage to the folder, especially with his sunglasses perched on top of his head. "I think you'll find I haven't actually agreed to anything."

"Well, you do seem to be hedging your bets so far," he said, grinning.

Lynda put the folder back on her desk and stood so she was looking down on Spike. However, that didn't work because he immediately stood up straight. She folded her arms. "You are not going to get me to go out with you by tricking me."

He put his hands out in a gesture of apology. "This isn't a trick."

Everything Spike said was some sort of trick to get her to go out with him. "Then tell me just when I said I'd go out with you."

"Well, you haven't yet, but I'm working on it," he admitted.

She gave him a look, turned away and sat back down. After a few moments - a time she'd calculated perfectly - she looked back up, knowing he was still standing there, waiting for her to tell him to go away. She had no intention of giving him the satisfaction. "I can't do tonight anyway."

"Why not?" He smiled, no doubt thinking that she was agreeing to go out with him after all, even though she had no intention of ever doing so.

"Oh, don't you remember, Spike?" she asked in a sickly sweet voice.

"Remember what?" He didn't sound at all like he trusted her tone.

"I don't know, I haven't thought of it yet." She grinned in victory and turned back to her work. Not that it was easy to concentrate with him right beside her, but all she had to do was cross out a few words and he would never know the difference. Most of the article could probably do with being cut anyway.

It was a minute before he leaned down to say in her ear, "So how about tomorrow?"

Lynda closed her eyes temporarily. Just when she thought she'd won, he'd always manage to come back with a riposte. And before she could think of something to say to that he was off over the other side of the room, talking to Frazz. Since he hadn't waited for an answer it must have been obvious that she was going to say no to whatever he suggested, so she counted that as a win. Except that no one else seemed to realise the show was over.

"Haven't you all got work to do?" She stood up as she spoke to give her words a little weight. As everyone returned to work Spike grinned, no doubt thinking he had rattled her. But he hadn't and she went back to work without a second thought. Well, maybe just one, but then her mind was back on the paper and she really didn't care where Spike was and what he was doing, as long as he was working. And she knew that with all that talk of a date he must have forgotten they were both supposed to be at the weekly pizza meeting tonight at 7.30pm.


End file.
